


Puppy love

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [30]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: The cutest little puppy invades Baker Street. Sherlock is upset...tries to be...gosh, he's so cute!





	Puppy love

He’s wandering the halls of his mind-palace, dusting off and sorting the shelves filled with books, representing information. It is one of these days when he sorts through all the unnecessary trivia he has picked up during the last couple of weeks and throws it out. 

As he checks the titles of the books he slowly strolls along the shelf.   
The colors of the book covers are mostly black. Once in a while a bright color shows up: yellow, neon green, magenta, turquoise. 

With a gentle hand he pulls those out of the shelf and steeples them on his arm, merely glancing at the titles:

_Does like to read with her legs propped against the wall_

_Always mouthes that dialogue from Jane Eyre_

_Likes to wear his shirts when he’s not home_

_Ticklish on the left side, right under the curve of her ribcage_

_Does that new thing with her tongue_

Sherlock can’t help but smile at the last one, his heart skipping a beat, memories of  _that kiss_  flooding his mind. It was a hell of a kiss. 

Shaking it off he turns and walks out of the room. He wants to store these book before he continues. He’s almost at  _her_ room when something makes him stop. 

Scratching noises; something sharp over the wooden flooring, quick and fast. Then gone. 

Sherlock pricks up his ears. 

Silence. 

After another moment he shrugs it off. His hand is at the doorhandle when he hears quick footsteps; bare feet. 

Annoyance makes him knit his brow. He better does this fast. 

A hushed voice sounds in the distance as he enters the room covered in book shelves, assorted by each different colour. 

A whimper makes him pause. The sound is so odd, the room around him begins to lose its shape. 

He huffs in anger and quickly stores the last couple of books. 

More scratching noises. Coming closer, then hurrying away, always followed by footsteps. 

When a door slams shut his eyes snap open. They look at the ceiling. He’s lying on his couch. In his flat. The still unusual weight on his ring finger reminds him that he’s not alone. 

With an elegant move he stands up and walks straight down the hall and opens the bedroom door. Molly Holmes nee Hooper shrieks and quickly sits down on the bed. Her cheeks are a bright pink as she smiles at him, her brown eyes sparkling.

They just stare at each other for a moment, then his eyes scan the room. A rustle draws them back to the bed and Molly’s eyes widen as a lump under his blanket moves across the bed. 

“What is that?”

“What’s what?”

The lump bumps against her leg. Then it stills. Molly presses her lips together.   
The blanket slowly sinks and outlines the shape hidden underneath it. 

Sherlock sighs. 

“And just when were you planning on telling me a puppy followed you home?”

If possible, Molly’s cheeks glow even brighter. 

She opens her mouth to what clearly would have been a half-hearted, not thought through, stammered lie, but in the end she just exhales and begins to pull the blanket from underneath her bum. 

“How do you know he followed me?”

“Well, cleary you would never just buy one without asking me.”

“That’s true”, she agrees.  

Then she folds back the blanket and a pair of big black eyes look up at him, blinking. 

“Isn’t he adorable?” Molly cooes and picks up the little black labrador retriever and cuddles him. Immediately he begins licking her face, his ears bouncing and his tail wagging excitedly. 

Sherlock’s heart warms when he sees the happy look on Molly’s face, rubbing her cheek on the puppie’s little head as she strokes his belly. 

“He instandly reminded me of you.”

“I don’t pee on the rug”, he counters.

“Neither does he”, Molly defends him sternly and sets him back on the bed where he begins to jump around until he buries his head in the blanket and disappears from sight. Back in ‘lump mode’ the canine house guest moves around the bed, excited barks sounding once in a while. 

As she sees Sherlock’s doubting look Molly stands up and places her hands on his chest. 

“He’s very well behaved, I promise he won’t disturb you. He already listens to ‘sit’ and ‘quiet’ - well, most of the times - and I will take complete care of him. You won’t have to do anything.”

“What about the owner? Surely he ran away from somewhere.”

“I already asked everyone in our neighbourhood. I also posted on ‘doglost.co.uk’. No one has put a claim on him so far.”

That’s when it dawns on Sherlock. He frowns and his eyes narrow.

“How long has this dog been here?”

The flush on Molly’s face increases. 

“Uuuum…”

Suddenly, a voice coming from the hallway.

“Molly! Molly! Sherly is gone! The door to the flat was open when I- oh oh.”

Mrs. Hudson - having the worst timing ever - stands at the bedroom door. A smiliar blush to Molly’s appears on Martha’s cheeks. 

“Never mind, Martha, he’s here”, Molly says meekly.

“O-okay. Um, I’m going down to…hoover something.”

And she is gone, leaving Molly alone with her new husband. For a moment she thinks that they won’t make it to the third week of their marriage.   
All kinds of emotions flash up in Sherlock’s eyes as he takes a deep breath and glares at her, then at the lump.   
As if on cue the black head re-appears from beneath the blankets and those big black eyes look at him, happy and innocent, his pink tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. 

“How long?” he asks his wife and sees how the puppy tilts his head and lifts his ears.

“Three-weeks-five-days”, Molly admits in one breath and looks down guiltily. 

Sherlock gasps for air. 

“This dog lived here longer than you!” he exclaims angrily.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“So I guess your wedding vows mean nothing to you? You know, being honest with each other and all that.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is it fair to take in a stray dog without telling the owner of the house.”

“Hey! I told Mrs. Hudson.”

A usual, Sherlock ignores the fact that this house isn’t his. “You know exactly what I mean so don’t try worming your way out of it through a technicality.”

A happy bark interrupts their fight. Sherly is standing on the edge of the bed, tail wagging so quickly is entire butt is moving with it.   
Molly smiles and picks him up. 

“Just look into his eyes and tell me you can’t love this puppy.”

She carries him over to Sherlock who looks down the length of his nose with narrow eyes. Those black eyes are shining with nothing but good-heartedness and joy. Hackling excitedly the puppy suddenly begins squirming in Molly’s arms and before they know Sherlock has to catch him. His little front paws climb up his chest and a second later the pink wet tongue slobbers all over his face. 

Sherlock inwardly sighs.

Checkmate. 

His hands are already petting the brash little creature. His fur is pleasantly soft.

“We’re not calling him Sherly. And he will not sleep in our bed.”

Molly squeals in delight, causing Sherly to bark (of course he won’t listen to anything else, no matter how hard Sherlock will try over the next half year). 

When he sees the happy expression and the cheeky smile on his wife’s face he clears his throat and puts the dog down. Sherly is gone like a bolt, the sounds of his paws scratching over the floor echoing through the flat. Then little thuds announce that he’s bolting down the stairs. 

“Thank you, darling.”

“Don’t darling me. I’m still mad.”

Still, he lets her hug him. He likes how she cuddles up to him. 

“How about tomorrow I’ll bring you those gallbladders you wanted as an apology?”

He only huffs, not willing to cave yet. It’s rare that he is in the right. He wants to hold on to this feeling just a bit longer.

His resolve weakens, however, when his wife kisses him. That’s when the red cover of the book pops up in his mind. 

“Do that thing with your tongue again”, he murmurs against her lips. 

She giggles. 

When she obliges, a pleasant shiver runs down his spine. 

Ah, to hell with being right. They both know he’s not really mad. Sherly is indeed cute. 

And Molly knows just as well as him that he loves dogs. 


End file.
